Dr Boyce signalled for Muriel to follow him out of the room and down the stairs, and as she did so she was aware that the dull pounding ache in her head she had woken up with was getting worse, along with the leaden feeling in her limbs.
Dr Boyce turned to face her in the hall. ‘Normally I’d want Bess taken into hospital the way this bronchitis has taken hold but with the wards overflowing and half the medical staff laid up with the flu she’s probably better off where she is. If you can cope, that is.’
‘Cope?’ Muriel gazed at him, bleary-eyed. ‘Oh aye, Doctor. I can cope.’
‘Are you feeling all right, Mrs Shawe?’ Dr Boyce’s tired eyes narrowed. In spite of having been on his feet for nearly forty-eight hours, he still recognised the onset of sickness when he saw it.
‘Just a bit weary, Doctor.’
‘On second thoughts it might be better if I arrange for Bess to be admitted to the infirmary.’
Muriel’s head came up with a jerk of protest. ‘No, no, Doctor,’ she said hastily.‘You said yourself she’s better off here. I’m all right. It’s just that the bairn’s been up the last night or two. Teethin’, she is.’ And then, in something of a rush, she added, ‘But she’s a good bairn, Doctor, an’ I don’t say that just because she’s our own. Happy as the day’s long, she is, an’ when I think of the time when our Bess was carryin’, that’s a miracle in itself. If ever a bairn shouldn’t have been born, this one shouldn’t, with all her mam had to put up with.’
The doctor’s voice was gentle when he said, ‘There is a fine dividing line between life and death, Mrs Shawe, and I’m convinced it’s more to do with the spirit than it is with the body.’
‘Aye, I reckon you’re right there.’ Muriel nodded. ‘Our Bess has always been strong in herself - a fighter, you know?’
The good doctor didn’t say what he was thinking, namely that however strong Bess might have been, Amy’s difficult delivery followed by the gruelling work in the munitions factory and her father’s continuing ill treatment had all taken their toll, body, soul and spirit. Instead he smiled and patted Muriel’s arm. ‘Like mother, like daughter.’
‘Oh, I’m not a strong person, Doctor.’ Pink with embarrassment, Muriel fiddled with her pinny. ‘Not like our Bess. She’ll rally round from this flu in a bit an’ be as right as rain, you mark my words.’
‘I hope you’re right, Mrs Shawe, but I shall pop in tomorrow about this time and have a look at her.’ Dr Boyce made his way to the front door, stepping down into the street beyond before saying, ‘Rest as much as you can, won’t you?’
‘Oh, I’m all right, Doctor, an’ thank you.’ Muriel did the curious little movement which was somewhere between a bob and genuflection, and which she kept for the priest and doctor alone, before shutting the front door.When she turned to face the stairs, everything swam for a moment and she put out a hand to the wall to steady herself. Ee, she’d better have something to eat. She’d skipped breakfast this morning because she hadn’t felt too good; likely that was the reason she felt a bit funny now. Whatever, she couldn’t be sick.Who’d look after Bess and the bairn if she was sick?
When Dr Boyce returned to the house in Deptford Road the next morning, which was a Saturday, it was Kitty who opened the door to him, Amy in her arms. She explained how she’d called round to see Bess a little while before and found Muriel all but collapsed in the kitchen. ‘I’ve sent her to bed, Doctor,’ Kitty said earnestly. ‘I can take care of things over the weekend, and me mam’ll have Amy during the day come Monday when I’m at work. Just till Bess is on her feet again.’
‘How is Bess?’ the doctor asked, glancing up the stairs as he took off his coat.
‘Well . . .’ Kitty hesitated for a second before saying, her voice low, ‘She seems right poorly to me, Doctor.’
A swift examination confirmed that further complications had set in, pneumonia being the biggest threat. And when Bess made only a token protest at being sent to the Sunderland infirmary, Dr Boyce knew she was aware of just how ill she was.
Muriel was hot and feverish and barely coherent when he walked into the second bedroom, but on hearing he was proposing to send Bess to hospital, she struggled out of bed to prove how much better she was feeling, with the result that she fainted clean away in Dr Boyce’s arms.
By the time Wilbur came home at midday, the house was very quiet. He stopped dead on the threshold to the kitchen, eyeing Kitty who was stirring something in a pan on the stove.
‘Hello, Mr Shawe.’ Kitty was terrified of Bess’s father and it showed as she gabbled, ‘The doctor’s been and Bess is in hospital and Mrs Shawe is in bed. Amy’s with me mam and she’s said she’ll keep her until things sort out with Bess. I’ve stripped Bess’s bed and Mam’s soaking all the stuff in our poss tub ready for Monday’s wash so there’s nowt for you to do. Do . . . do you want to go up and see Mrs Shawe?’
Wilbur kept her waiting for some ten seconds before he nodded at the pan, raising his eyebrows.
‘Oh, it’s some of me mam’s rabbit stew,’ Kitty said in answer to the silent enquiry. ‘I tried to get Mrs Shawe to have a little but she couldn’t. Mam’s put in a good few dumplings for you . . .’ Her voice dwindled away.
Wilbur was enjoying himself. Kitty’s fear amused him. He had always considered her the runt of that litter next door and her friendship with his daughter irritated him.
Still without speaking he seated himself at the kitchen table, breaking a piece of bread off the fresh loaf Kitty had placed there and chewing it as he watched her tip the contents of the pan into a large white bowl. Her hands were trembling as she set the stew before him and for a second he was tempted to move suddenly and make her jump, just for the hell of it. Instead he picked up his spoon and began to eat.
Kitty walked across to the range where a pot of tea was mashing on the steel shelf to one side of the fire. She brought it to the table and placed it beside the sugar bowl. ‘I’ve got to go for me dinner,’ she said weakly. ‘I’ll come back later and see if Mrs Shawe wants anything, shall I?’
Wilbur raised his head, staring at her unblinkingly. ‘Aye,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m going to the football.’
Kitty nodded. Her mam had said he would. Her mam couldn’t stand Bess’s da any more than she could.
Wilbur watched her collect the dirty pan from the stove and scurry across the room. He let her get right to the back door before he called, ‘You! Kitty!’
Her eyes were like saucers as she came back to the kitchen threshold and his pleasure increased. He chewed long and hard on a piece of meat, prolonging the moment, before he said, ‘Thank your mam for the stew.’ He didn’t smile.
‘Oh aye, aye, I will, Mr Shawe.’ And then she fled as though the devil himself was on her heels.
‘I told you he’d still go to the footie, now didn’t I, Abe?’ Kitty’s mother plonked her husband’s dinner in front of him as though the situation next door was his fault. ‘And there’s you saying don’t be hasty, give the man a chance. Chance my backside.’ She glared at the serene-looking man now stolidly eating his meal, her glance encompassing the remaining five of her nine children still living at home before coming to rest on Amy who was seated on Kitty’s lap. ‘Poor little lass,’ she said to no one in particular.
After dishing up her children’s food, Sally Price took Amy off Kitty and began to feed the toddler herself. ‘You sure you told him we’ll keep her till Bess is back?’ she asked Kitty after Amy had taken a few mouthfuls.
Kitty nodded. There wasn’t room to swing a cat in the house with her three elder brothers in one bedroom, herself and her older sister in the other and her parents sleeping in the front room, but she’d known her mam would take Amy. Her mam was like that. And she thought a bit of Bess’s mam.
‘And he didn’t say anything?’
‘No.’
‘Ignorant so-an’-so. Still, now he knows he’s got no excuse to ship the bairn off to the workhouse.’
‘Sally.’ Abe’s
voice held mild reproach. ‘Who says he was thinking of that?’
‘I do,’ Sally snapped,‘and you’d see it yourself if you didn’t always think the best of everyone. The way he’s been with this bairn is a crying shame, and her so bonny. You going to see Bess later?’ she added to Kitty.
Kitty shook her head. ‘Dr Boyce said best to leave it to the morrer ’cos she’ll be tired out, what with the move and all.’
‘Well, when you visit you tell her from me the bairn’ll be all right with us for as long as it takes for her to get better. I’ll pop round and see Muriel later and tell her the same. Put her mind at rest.’ Sally looked down at the little girl nestled on her lap, the rosebud mouth wide open for the next spoonful of food. ‘Good as gold, aren’t you, hinny,’ she crooned in a softer voice than she’d used thus far.‘And Mam’ll be home soon, never you fear. She’s in the right place to make her better.’
But Bess wasn’t better when Kitty arrived at the hospital the next day. She was in a little side ward and curtains had been drawn round the bed.
‘Are you a relation?’ the prim-looking nurse on duty asked. ‘Sister says only close relations can visit Miss Shawe and then just for a minute or two. She’s very poorly.’
Kitty thought quickly. ‘I’m her sister.’
The nurse said nothing but raised disbelieving eyebrows.
Kitty flushed and then threw caution to the wind. ‘She’ll want to see me,’ she said in a low but urgent voice. ‘Really she will.We’re like sisters, we always have been and me mam’s looking after Bess’s - Miss Shawe’s - bairn and we’re seeing to her mam. I need to tell her everything’s all right, put her mind at rest. Please, Nurse.’
The muscles in the stiff face relaxed slightly. There was a pause and then the nurse said, ‘You’re her sister, right? With a message from her mam about the bairn.’
‘Right.’ Kitty nodded in perfect understanding.
‘Come on then but you can only stay for a minute.’ The nurse led her to the curtains which she drew carefully aside to let Kitty through before following herself. Bending over the bed and smoothing the already smooth coverlet, she repeated, ‘Just a minute and then you’ll have to go. I’ll come and get you.’
Kitty couldn’t say anything, she was too shocked by the change in Bess since the day before. Her friend had looked very ill then, now she looked . . . She swallowed hard. She drew up the chair by the side of the bed and sat down as the nurse disappeared, pulling the curtains shut behind her.
‘Hello, lass,’ she said softly as the sunken eyes in the grey face opened. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Kitty.’ Bess feebly reached out her hand, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Don’t fret, lass.’ Kitty grasped Bess’s cold fingers in her own warm ones. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’
‘Amy?’
‘Me mam’s got her and we’re keeping her till you’re home. She’s being spoiled rotten by me da and the lads and everyone. Your mam’s got the flu and she’s not too good but she sends her love.’
‘Kitty.’ Bess had to take a gasping breath to continue and Kitty winced at the painfulness of it. ‘Don’t let him have her.’
‘Your da? No, no, he hasn’t got her, lass. She’s with us.’
‘I mean . . .’ Another breath. ‘When I’m gone. He’ll put her away, I know he will.’ Bess’s lips were scarcely moving.
Kitty’s voice was trembling when she said, ‘You’re not going anywhere except home to Amy once you’re better.’
Bess’s head moved from side to side on the pillow in silent denial. ‘I . . . know, Kitty, and I’m not frightened.’ Her mouth opened and shut twice before she could continue. ‘Since I’ve been in here I’ve made my peace with God.’
‘Oh, lass.’
‘He’s not the God Father Fraser goes on about. He’s good, forgiving.’ The fight for breath was harder now and when Kitty, panic-stricken, went to rise to call the nurse, Bess gasped, ‘No, don’t go. Promise me, lass. Promise me you won’t let me da put her away, ’cos he will. Mam . . . Mam’s no match for him, she never has been.’
‘I promise. Course I promise. Me mam loves her, we all do.’
‘You . . . promised.’ The glimmer of a smile touched Bess’s colourless lips. ‘Tell her I loved her, that I wanted her. Tell her that when she grows up, that she was precious to me.’
Kitty could barely see Bess’s face now for the tears coursing down her cheeks, and when she felt a tap on her shoulder and the nurse’s voice saying, ‘You’ll have to go now, I’m afraid,’ she had the mad notion to gather Bess in her arms and run out of the hospital with her. She didn’t want her to die here, alone, surrounded by stiff, starchy strangers and the smell of antiseptic.
‘I’m sorry.’ The nurse was brisk. ‘I really must insist you let her rest now.’
‘Bye, bye, lass.’ Kitty smoothed a lock of hair from Bess’s forehead and then bent and kissed where her hand had touched.‘I’ll come the morrer and don’t worry, your da won’t have her.’ And as Bess closed her eyes, Kitty gently slid her hand from the limp fingers and blindly made her way out of the room, her heart breaking.
Bess died just as the dawn chorus began the following morning.That same afternoon Muriel suffered a stroke when Father Fraser, against medical advice, took it upon himself to inform the sick woman of her child’s demise. By nightfall the mother was a resident in the same hospital that housed the daughter in its mortuary.
Ronald went to see his mother the next day. He didn’t tell her that Wilbur was already making plans to send their granddaughter to the workhouse orphanage. Nor did he divulge that his father had thoroughly upset the Price family by riding roughshod over their offer to keep the little girl indefinitely, even going so far as to warn them he would set the law on the family if they didn’t hand Amy over to the guardians.
What Ronald did do was to sit on the narrow hard bed for the whole of his visit, holding his mother in his arms. Muriel could not speak, the stroke had taken all one side, but Ronald knew she understood his murmured whispers because the look of abject pleading faded from her eyes as he talked on.
On leaving the sterile confines of the infirmary he went straight to Deptford Road but not to his parents’ house. Half an hour later he exited the Price household with his niece in his arms and a bag of her clothes over one arm.
During the tram ride into Monkwearmouth while the child slept cuddled up on his lap, he prepared himself for the furore which would erupt when he walked in with Bess’s little girl.Things were already difficult between him and May and it seemed as if they were arguing about everything and nothing these days; Amy’s presence in the house would only add fuel to May’s ever-glowing fire. His in-laws would create and so would his father. Wilbur had been determined to see the infant shipped off to the workhouse and out of their lives. But he could handle his da the same as the rest of them if he was strong enough, and he would be strong over this. Mostly for his mother’s sake, he had to admit; she’d go mad with grief if the baby was put away, but also to make some sort of reparation to Bess, late though it was. And then there was Amy herself.
He glanced down at the tot on his lap who was sleeping with her thumb in her mouth, her other hand clasping the front of his jacket. She had been sitting on Mrs Price’s lap finishing her supper when he had walked in the house, and when she had caught sight of him she had smiled and held out her arms. She had never done that before. Of course it was probably because she associated him with her grandma, he knew that, but nevertheless it had touched something inside him, melting the hardness.When all was said and done, you couldn’t blame the bairn for her beginnings. If anyone was the innocent in all of this, she was.
As the tram jolted and creaked its way along, he looked out of the window, his mouth grim. There was going to be all hell to pay because of this wee scrap of a bairn in his arms, and it wouldn’t end tonight. He knew that. But he was glad he had taken her, whatever May and his in-laws and his da might th
row at him. If nothing else, he might be able to sleep again at night now.
PART TWO
1931 That Girl
Chapter 4
‘Mam says your precious Aunt Kitty is going to die an old maid, so there.’ Eva Shawe’s spotty chin was thrust forward as she spoke and behind her her sister Harriet sniggered.
The Rainbow Years Page 5